The Soul of a Storme

by SOOKOO, SANDRA

  They were instructed to again release their hands. Then Vicar Baring asked Andrew if he had a ring.

  “Yes.” The earl dug a finger into his waistcoat pocket and procured a thin plain gold band.

  “Very good. Repeat after me while putting the ring on her hand.” He said a string of words that flew right out of Sarah’s head.

  He slid the band onto the fourth finger of her left hand where it bumped snugly against the emerald engagement ring. “With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow.” A series of gasping breaths followed the statement. With effort, he continued in a tight voice. “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  “Excellent. Shall we pray over this new union?” The vicar directed this question to the room at large.

  Another tear fell to her cheek. Where was the joy that a wedding should have brought? She kneeled the same time that Andrew did, but she clung to his hand as hard as he clutched her. Could he not at least pretend he was pleased?

  As the words of a prayer went on and Vicar Baring closed his book, Sarah leaned into the earl. In a barely there whisper, she said, “I know you aren’t delighted with this arrangement, but I hope you’ll see life will turn out better than it is currently.”

  Did she truly believe that?

  The earl didn’t answer, merely stared at her with an intensity that had her trembling. What did he think right at his moment?

  When the prayer ended, she and Andrew stood. Vicar Baring said, “I now pronounce thee husband and wife.”

  No longer was she unwanted, undesired, unwed Miss Sarah Copeland. Now she was the Countess of Hadleigh—still unwanted, but desired. Perhaps. Only for him to alleviate a physical need or beget an heir. Not for herself and not because he cared. The urge to retch rose in her throat. She swallowed the hot saliva a few times to stave it off.

  “Congratulations, Lady Hadleigh,” he whispered. Though he drew her hand to his lips and placed a kiss upon her middle knuckle, there was no fondness in his eyes, but his lips lingered a heartbeat too long. What would they feel like when he employed them on her body later? “You’re no doubt quite pleased.”

  “I’m sorry you aren’t,” she shot off before thinking. “I can only be who I am.” There was absolutely no difference in how she felt now than she had before. If anything, she’d contracted more unease, but there was no time to analyze her thoughts, for the servants gathered around, offering blessings as well as introductions.

  As they filed out, her great uncle and aunt signed official documents as witnesses. Then her Aunt Maria kissed her cheek and offered empty promises of visiting often. Soon after, they left the room.

  Vicar Baring followed with his congratulations, and she was alone with her husband.

  It had happened so quickly that her head buzzed with the events of the afternoon. She glanced at him. Desolation lay stamped on his face and he held himself as if he would flee momentarily. “What now?” Her stomach let out an unladylike growl. “Shall we attend to luncheon?” Not that it would be a splendid affair. There were no revelers, no family members, and no richly decorated cake to mark the occasion.

  “I’m not feeling much for eating.” His eyes held a slightly haunted edge. He clutched at his chest with one hand while tracing the ruby pin tucked within the folds of his pristine cravat. “In fact, I need some air before I proceed with obligations for this day.”

  A tingle of apprehension mixed with anticipation careened down her spine. “Did you wish to spend time in other pursuits abovestairs then?” She hadn’t thought they’d retire so early, but then she’d never could have dreamed she would call herself a countess either.

  Panic flitted over his face. “I believe I’ll go riding,” he blurted as he backed away. “After that, I have a meeting with my estate manager. It will probably run a few hours.”

  “Really?” Sarah narrowed her eyes. She shoved up the bloody spectacles that refused to stay in place. “On our wedding day?”

  “Poor timing, I know, but there’s nothing for it.”

  Now that was outside of enough. Hot indignation rose in her chest. “You mean to leave me to my own devices so soon after we’ve wed? As if you had what you wanted and now you can abandon me like you have everything else?” Incredulity rang in her voice. This was not how she assumed the day would go. When hurt reflected in his eyes, she was immediately contrite. “I apologize. That wasn’t kind.”

  “No, but it was spot on. I don’t need the reminder of what a failure I am, for I live it every damned day.” His voice was low, rumbling, full of ire.

  She didn’t care. His defection made her feel small, as if she weren’t worth anything. “What would you have me do? After the understanding we came to four days ago? Am I to pretend none of this happened? Forget that the Earl of Hadleigh wed me but couldn’t bring himself to bed me?” Dear Lord, why couldn’t she stop talking?

  “Do not antagonize me in this, Sarah. I don’t have the patience.”

  “Ah, but when do you ever?” She popped her hands on her hips. Once more, their communication had devolved into arguing. “Are you so put off by me that you’ll race out to avoid your promises? Your vows?”

  “You… I can’t…” He winced and massaged his chest as his faced paled. “I’m sorry,” he gasped out. His labored breathing didn’t bode well. “I’ll join you later this evening.” Then he did indeed flee the room without a backward glance.

  “Well, drat.” It had been a trying week. Tears welled again in her eyes. It seemed her married life wasn’t beginning all that auspiciously. “I was foolish to think otherwise.”

  She hadn’t been aware she’d spoken that last bit aloud until the matronly housekeeper returned to the room.

  “Oh, you poor duck.” Mrs. Hastings joined her. “I saw the earl ride out on that hellish mount of his.” She clicked her tongue. “That man can’t see a good thing even if it smacked him.”

  Sarah snorted with derision mixed with bitterness as a few tears fell. “Perhaps he needs a good smack to knock some sense into him.”

  “I don’t doubt you’re the woman who could do it.” The housekeeper nodded. “Let me help you settle in. There wasn’t time last night for me to show you how lovely your suite truly is. The earl ordered it up real nice for you, so that’s something. He’s not a complete arse.”

  An unexpected laugh escaped her, and Sarah wiped her eyes. “Not complete, no.” She gave herself over into the woman’s care. It was nice to have someone look after her, since Andrew apparently wouldn’t, regardless of the vows he just took.

  Why had she expected this portion of her life to be any different from what she’d already had? Silly dreams, nothing more.

  Chapter Eleven

  Drew groaned when the longcase clock in the drawing room chimed the eleventh hour. Its stentorian tones filtered down the hall to his study and reminded him of his duty. He drained his snifter of brandy—had it been two or three now?—and slammed his booted feet to the floor from where they’d rested previously on his desk.

  Nearly the witching hour on his wedding night and he sat here hiding away like a damned coward. All afternoon the disappointment in Sarah’s eyes had haunted him. He’d run from her, afraid to remain in her presence but equally afraid to begin his life with her, for she would leave eventually.

  Everyone did.

  Yet she was upstairs, waiting for him to consummate their marriage, for that had been a stipulation in their betrothal contract—the begetting of an heir. Oh, God. His chest tightened with another round of crushing anxiety, as it had done since he’d spoken those vows to her. Life had changed. He’d added her to his long list of responsibilities. Another person he’d let down, make angry, and ultimately fail.

  It hurt to breathe. Hell, he couldn’t take a full breath any longer. The title of earl was indeed attempting to kill him. Would he suffer an attack of the heart as his father had? What would happen to Sarah if he expired
prematurely without issue? Bloody hell. Black spots danced at the corners of his vision. The title would go to Finn, but his brother couldn’t handle the strain plus survive life with his injury. Drew couldn’t let that happen. It would bury his brother as sure as it would kill him.

  No. Everything rests on me.

  As it always had.

  The urge to retch grew. It filled his mouth with hot saliva and the bitterness of bile hit his palate. With a shaking hand, he poured out another small measure of brandy into his glass and downed it with one gulp. The burn of the liquor in his throat temporarily waylaid his tortured thoughts. I’m not strong enough for any of this.

  But that didn’t negate the fact that Sarah waited.

  When he’d seen her in the drawing room before the ceremony, he’d wanted to spirit her away, for she’d been a vision in that emerald gown, and with her golden hair piled upon her head secured with glittering combs, he’d lost the ability to think. Oh, he wanted her, hadn’t stopped since he’d first met her, but suddenly the magnitude of what he must do had slammed into him. Fear had taken hold.

  She would expect an experienced lover, but he hadn’t had a woman in his bed for a few years. She’d want an attentive husband, yet he’d already failed when he’d run away from her directly following their ceremony. She’d wish him to be a doting father to their children should they have them, but unless he took his arse abovestairs, that would never happen. They’d merely met a week ago and now life had shifted… forever. Instead of finding peace and calm at Hadleigh Hall, he had added an enormous amount of obligation.

  Each of those things added stress to the weight on his shoulders that even now threatened to crush him. Anxiety worked to pull him under into the all-consuming darkness, and he gasped for breath. At this point, perhaps death would be the easier option.

  How can I do this?

  It didn’t matter how. Do it he must. Scrambling to his feet as the urge to vomit rose in his throat, Drew stumbled to the door. It was his duty, and she was his wife, and by Jove, she wasn’t horrid to look at either.

  He only tripped once on the stairs. Perhaps he’d stop in his room to change out of his riding clothes and wash the day’s grime off his person before visiting her bedchamber. She deserved that, at least. When he pressed on the door latch and pushed open the panel, the sight that greeted him in the dim light left him frozen.

  A single candle burned on a bedside table, but that wasn’t what held his attention. Sarah lay on his bed, her slender body dwarfed by the large four-poster piece of furniture, and she had the look of an angel with the masses of her blonde hair spilled over his pillows.

  His heart skipped a beat the same time his length began to harden. She’d sought him out… hoping.

  As quietly as he could, Drew closed the door, and after he’d toed off his boots—nearly falling twice in the process of removing them—he padded closer to the bed. A volume of poetry lay forgotten next to her, for she’d fallen asleep waiting for him to join her. The red linen cover indicated it contained selected pieces of Byron’s work. Ah, so she was a romantic at heart.

  How interesting.

  Then he forgot the book in favor of looking his fill at her. She’d changed into a peignoir set of the finest lawn dyed a faint moss green. Trimmed with ribbons and delicate lace, he’d wager half his estate the clothing was what had been wrapped in parcel paper that day. The outfit coupled with her hair in a mass on his navy counterpane sent blood rushing into his shaft.

  “Oh, Sarah.” The whispered words sounded overly loud in the hushed silence. Who knew the straightforward governess would favor such delicate, beautiful clothing? Quickly, he shed his jacket and waistcoat, but his gaze never strayed from her body. The moment the garments hit the floor with a soft plop, her eyelids fluttered, and she stirred.

  “Andrew?” Sarah raised up on an elbow. She blinked against the candlelight. “What time is it?”

  “Quarter past eleven.” God, he didn’t deserve her. She was sweet yet tart-mouthed and an innocent while he was a growling beast shrouded in dark madness. This union had been a mistake, for he would hurt her like he’d done to his family.

  “Oh.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Where have you been?” Her eyes, dark in the dim light, reflected aggravation. The silver frames winked with each movement. “I waited for you, but you never came.” How she managed to infuse accusation and disappointment into her tone at the same time, he didn’t know. When she stood, she was toe-to-toe with him. “You abandoned me on our wedding day.”

  All her points were valid. He had no cause to dispute any of them, but that didn’t mean that anger didn’t swell in his chest from being reminded. “I’m here now.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You smell of brandy.”

  “I indulged before coming up.”

  “Is that what it takes for you to find the courage to bed me?” She planted her hands on her hips. The points of her hardening nipples were barely visible through the filmy garments she wore. “Is the thought of lying with me so distasteful that you must drink beforehand?”

  “Of course not. I drink to forget.” Close enough that her clover and violet scent teased his nose, desire roared into life. “I’ve wanted to bed you since I met you.” When she sputtered, he grinned. Having her at sixes and sevens was most rewarding. “Since you’re awake, shall we begin?” Lust fought with the simmering anger and crushing anxiety, winning temporarily.

  If only he could keep them at bay longer.

  Sarah huffed. Golden flecks swam in the dark brown depths of her irises. “After being gone for nearly twelve hours, you expect me to do… that… with you now?”

  “I do.” Awareness shivered over his skin. Pushing her to the point of annoyance left him heated and randy. “Yet you were waiting for me, in my bed I might add, to do just that.” As she glared, he gripped her hips and drew her flush to his body. Damn, but she felt good. “Tell me you don’t want me, Sarah, and I’ll go.”

  “Why must you act so bothersome?” Her hands drifted up his chest. The heat of her seeped through the fine lawn of his shirt, made him crave more of her.

  He stared at her lips before meeting her eyes. “As you said earlier today of yourself, I can only be who I am as well.” Then he claimed her lips in a kiss that hopefully left no doubt in her mind that he wanted her. Those petal soft pieces of flesh cradled his, stoked his hunger. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him, and soon. When he ended the kiss, she pulled away, her spectacle lenses steamed, her breathing slightly labored.

  “I’m cross with you.” Some of the bite had faded from her tone.

  “You have a lifetime to berate me.” Though the words were said in jest, he couldn’t quell the rising anger, for he would always come up short in her expectations, would always disappoint her. Sooner or later she would resent him for it.

  Everyone did.

  “Then show me that my ire is displaced.” Her eyes darkened with the same desire coursing through his veins. She pulled lightly on his cravat. “Show me that your absence wasn’t because you’ve made a mistake in marrying me.” Insecurity popped in her eyes. “Show me that we at least have a chance.” The quiver in her voice slammed into him and brought a wave of guilt, but it also brought out a surge of compassion.

  Was she as terrified as he?

  It wouldn’t do to grow too fond of her, so he shoved the thought away. A tug on the ribbons at the front of her robe had the garment gaping. As he shoved it from her shoulders and it pooled on the floor at their feet and her breath caught from a mere touch, he knew what he must do. He had to make her hate him, or at the very least keep her at arm’s length, so that when she left him, gave up on him due to his brokenness and his demons, it wouldn’t hurt as much as when his family had done the same. “I’ll show you something and you can decide what it means.”

  I can’t feel one more thing or I’ll break. God only knew if he’d come out sane at the other side. Part of him wanted to reach out f
or her help, to plead for it, but his damned pride kept him silent.

  Sarah laid a palm against his cheek. It took all his willpower not to nuzzle into her hand. “I don’t wish to do this if you’re incensed.” One of her eyebrows lifted in a challenge. “Leave that anger. Stop holding onto it, for it’s doing you no good. You’re better than that.”

  “If I were, I wouldn’t feel so shattered. Earls don’t outwardly do anything to appear weak.” Not wanting to indulge in conversation that might lead to introspection, Drew tangled his fingers in the golden curtain of her hair, lightly pulled until her head tipped back, and then he kissed her—hard. He devoured her lips, cupped her head in his hands through those tresses and held her still while he plundered her mouth as if he couldn’t have enough of her. He thrust his tongue inside to bully hers with rhythmic strokes. Answering pulses rolled through his hardened length. Vaguely, he became aware of her palms pushing at his chest, and when she shoved, breaking the punishing embrace, he gasped for breath.

  Even while attempting a kiss, anxiety wouldn’t relent.

  “What the devil is wrong with you?” Sarah narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re capable of acting like a gentleman instead of a brute.”

  Except she hardly knew him or how much more beastly he could be.

  Yet he wanted her approval, craved it, hoped that she’d like him for the man that he was. He wiped the moisture from his mouth. “I apologize.” Would he forever muck things up due to the damned anger that wouldn’t leave him alone?

  Sarah’s expression softened slightly. “It’s all right. Try again.” She tugged on his cravat, unwinding it until the length of fabric fell away along with his collar. “I may be your wife, but that doesn’t mean you should ever stop attempting to woo me.”

  The logic was sound. Even if they’d signed a contract that never made allowances for love or even romance, there was no reason he couldn’t charm her. “I’ll try.” But if he did that, then she wouldn’t grow to hate him. It was a conundrum—please her or fall apart when she left.